


Sleepy Mornings

by NewtNewt



Series: Fluffy Striders Who Deserve Love [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff without Plot, M/M, Morning Cuddles, No Smut, Praise & Affection, Slightly chubby Dave Strider, Sweet Striders, thats it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-17 08:23:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15457236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NewtNewt/pseuds/NewtNewt
Summary: "If you don't let me up, I'm going to kick you in your dick.""Hmpgh."Dave swiftly pulls his leg up and then forces it back, arms from his partner tightening around his middle as they let out a groan. He warned him- and also went through with the threat when Dirk didn't move his ass. It's a sleepy Saturday morning in Hollywood.-Sleepy mornings warrant nothing but unconditional love and overly detailed adoration from both parties, as well as Dave never actually getting up like he was supposed to.





	Sleepy Mornings

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I hope you enjoy this!   
> This is, entirely, self indulgent fluff with an over amount of description.  
> Have a good read!

"If you don't let me up, I'm going to kick you in your dick."

"Hmpgh."

Dave swiftly pulls his leg up and then forces it back, arms from his partner tightening around his middle as they let out a groan. He warned him- and also went through with the threat when Dirk didn't move his ass. It's a sleepy Saturday morning in Hollywood.

Sleepy mornings mean Dave struggling endlessly to get up from the grasp of his brother, and lover, whines slipping through his lips as the older male merely turns into some devilish vice trap and tightens around him endlessly.

"Derrick- I swear to God, I'll kick you in your dick again if you don't let go." It's grumbled out, and sure, Dave means it, but only because his bladder is literally about to fucking burst. He's all for basking in the morning sun, bright light filtering in through those shitty, white, cheap curtains they bought when they first moved in together. It does an absolutely terrible job at masking the sun at all, really. Just lets it straight in to bathe the brothers in its ever glowing light, making Dave squint as he tries to blink open his eyes. Right. He still has a problem. His legs shift again- knee raising and-

"Alright, alright, baby, stop. I'll move, I promise." The voice is low and rolling. A southern twang drips off it heavily and he can practically hear the sigh in it as Derrick- Dirk's his nickname, although after three years of dating, that really goes away- starts to butterfly kisses across his neck. It brings a sigh out of the smaller male. A pale neck cranes and red eyes flutter, another grumpy mumble leaving Dave, but his leg retreats, going back down as he relaxes. His bladder can wait for a damn second while he takes in all the morning love, that's for sure.

The morning love comes in the form of soft kisses that sprinkle themselves across his shoulders. Down his neck and across his broad back. They butterfly and match all the constellations of freckles the younger male has and beautifully so. Dirk always does a rather nice job of that, to be fair. Adoring Dave, that is. He's a god when it comes to making the smaller male feel loved- and better yet, somehow manages to get him to _accept_ the love. And boy, did that take a while- although it’s certainly worth it now. The memories come in soft waves at that thought and he smiles a bit to himself. Dirk would call him cute and he would have a damn heartattack; turn red and fussy- he really did take it as an insult, though you can't exactly blame him, even if it was a bit dumb on his part. He's got more feminine features, sure, and a bit of a shell built up around him because of it. His hips curve out, for instance. Not a lot, but noticeable albeit subtle.

He's also a rather lithe male over masculine, for instance, carrying a tiny bit of chub in the stomach area. The chub seems to enjoy hanging around his hips and thighs, too, and it could be because he doesn’t work out as much as Dirk. That seems like logical reasoning for his chub- but what of his more feminine features that he can’t possibly change? Genetics; Broad shoulders and a defined collar bone; tiny wrists and a slim waist. He's got an 'hour glass' figure, essentially- or as much of one as a guy can have. His face is feminine, too, in its own way. It’s not as if his body is this wondrous thing and his face is all masculine, sharp angles and high cheekbones. It’s not like that's bad, either; that it’s not the picture perfect representation of a sharp edged, chiseled male. He doesn't necessarily need to be masculine- just ask Dirk. That's his favorite thing about Dave.

His buttoned off nose and rounded features. How his jaw is sloping and sharp- although that's something more masculine- with rounded off cheeks. Those cheeks are home to a masterpiece, too; sprinkled in freckles that dot across his nose and under his eyes. They make his face look like a little galaxy- plus, god, his _eyes_. Sure, Dirk has special eyes himself, but Dave's? His are glorious; ruby red with not exactly long lashes, but instead thick, medium length ones. They frame his eyes just as well as the longest ones would, appearing dramatic, yet not overly extravagant. They're light in color and match his pale hair, complimenting his bushy eyebrows in the oddest ways. But his most noticeable feature, in Dirk’s opinion, besides his eyes, are his lips; pouty lips that are formed more heavily. A heavy bottom lip with a thinner top one; pinked naturally in color and always smooth; Dave is religious about using chapstick, after all. He's got a slight cupid's bow, though not too much of one. Not as angled and sharp as the 'ideal one', but rather... a hill, Dirk likes to call it, when throwing around soft teases and engaging in gentle flurries of compliments and love. It’s a hill, though. A small, rounded off, little mound that looks natural and goes well with his downturned mouth. And, the best part? It’s all Dirk’s.

But- Dave’s imperfect, really. He swears this to himself, but not to Dirk- never to him. The male absolutely refuses to admit that Dave is anything but perfect and that comes back to him when a prickling feeling starts to accompany the light shower of kisses on his shoulder. Kisses, which have started to ebb into his neck and collarbone. The positioning makes Dirk's scruff- a sharp jaw littered in dirty blond, almost reddish hair, which he doesn't ever shave. Yet, it never grows out either- just long enough to rub against his sensitive skin. It leaves an irritating, prickly feeling that he, personally, isn't too fond of. It's a nuisance and annoying, but also something he's come to enjoy, oddly enough. It's the whiskers on a cat and really, it's Dirk's whiskers. Huh. How cute.

"What're you smilin' at?"

The voice is back and alerts him to something he wasn't even aware of. Well- two things. One, Dirk is more awake than before and he's a lot closer. His eyes must be open. And two- Dave's smiling. He hadn't even realized it, but he guesses he is, now that he thinks about it. The memories just snuck up on him in the sleepy morning haze and made him subconsciously break out in a little dimpled grin. There was a question asked though, wasn't there? Buried within the second sentence spoken this morning in that thick southern tone that can only belong to his brother and partner. It's spoken just as gravely and rough as the first sentence, too, although much louder with that brassy tone rumbling in his ear. Matter of fact, this time it's right beside his ear. It’s close with chapped lips brushing, a smile formed against his skin as Dirk lands a kiss under the delicate area and grins even more. Dave smiles a bit as well.

"Nothin'."

"Somethin'. You're not movin' either- and I distinctively recall someone threatenin' a vital part of my body if I didn't move, yet the person who threatened me isn't even movin'."

It's certainly teasing and there's laughter in the tone of it. A tease to start the day off right, an inquisitive hum leaving him as he turns his head to smile into his pillow. It's warm- both from his previous sleeping on it and the sun beating down on it now. A perfect hiding place. Except, not for long. Dirk's spooned him, arms curled snug yet gentle around his stomach. Big hands and fingers are placed lightly on that slightly chubby stomach, hands warm and calloused from Dirk's usual work at the bar and his job as a mechanic on the side. Those jobs and work like that make his hands rough in all the right ways. Dave's skin is so soft, after all- it's just like silk or butter. He tries to take good care of himself so that it stays that way. Lotioning and exfoliating- all the stupid shit people say to do, but most people don't really do. Well, he does it and he gets nice ass skin out of it; Skin that Dirk adores.

The hands on his stomach tighten- spreading out more and cinching in that waist, arms sliding more firmly to hold him close. He's tugged back a little and Dirk's face is then beside his own, scruff rubbing against his cheek directly. _That's_ what he hates; his poor, sensitive, little cheeks that redden so easily getting abused by some dumb hair, short and rough and prickly. They'll be irritated and red in no time, plus the feeling of that scratchiness will probably stay with him for a good while. It summons an annoyed groan out of him and his nose scrunches, face trying to dive into the pillows and sheets more. This, of course, only draws a low chuckle from Dirk; Dave, clearly, can do no wrong in his book.

See, he’s adoring Dave still, even now. Rubbing their cheeks like some love struck cat, which really isn't too far off from the truth, starting to leave those little kisses again. He’s dotting them on those freckled cheeks and face, down and across Dave’s jaw and chin. His calloused hands are making another appearance, too. They've halted their tightening, bare skin against bare skin since both brothers like to sleep shirtless, in favor of just admiring. He’s rubbing soft circles in with the pads of his thumbs, pressing into those slightly squishy sides and stomach. There's freckles there. They trail down, all the way to Dave's thicker thighs and hips and just... beautiful. Dirk lets out a soft sigh at the same time as Dave, both sporting gentle smiles. The tease is forgotten, just as Dave's imminent need to pee is, too.

They sort of fall back to sleep.

It wasn't intentional, he swears. Really, it wasn't. He was going to get up and everything. Just have Dirk let go and then pee. Come back and go back to sleep, all happy, for a few more hours... except he sort of skipped that very important middle part and now it's coming back to bite him in the ass with a vengeance. A strong one. A strong one, in fact, that comes in the form of ruining his delicate and stolen away sleep.

See, anyone can fall asleep in the circumstances presented to him; being wrapped up by his partner, cuddled close and held in strong arms. Sunlight is beating down and warming him, lighting up his hair so that it shines platinum. There's soft breaths against his neck as Dirk's face settles there and his scruff isn't more than just a background feeling now, taken up and pushed aside in favor for the rhythmic feeling in his stomach. Large hands are merely adoring his body as Dirk falls asleep and drags him right back under with him.

And then Dave wakes back up. Because sure, everyone can fall asleep in those circumstances, it's easy and wonderful and god damn perfect and a blessing. But waking up is a furious and maddening thing only caused because of a very special reason in such a terrific moment. It's called the agonizing need to pee, which is sort of a theme here, in case you couldn’t tell.

So, he’s currently trying to figure out how the Hell to get up and pee. Sounds easy, right? It's not. Especially not when Dirk is probably the heaviest sleeper to have ever existed. That sounds good as well, right? Just wiggle away and he won't wake up. Lies. All of it, _lies_. A heavy sleeper also means a heavy person to move and Dirk is a big ol' muscley fuck who’s heavy. His arms are heavy and his body is heavy and his damned legs are heavy and it's all wrapped up around Dave, trapping him in. The fucker.

So, what’s plan B? What about when Dave threatened to kick him in the junk again? The whole benefit and reasoning behind that situation working was that he was already half awake and so was Dave. It was a sort of neutral, equal moment, where threatening to kick someone in the junk was alright. Those conditions no longer stand and Dirk’s asleep, and no, he isn’t just going to kick his boyfriend in the junk while he sleeps. That’s a dick move to a dick that isn’t even being a bad dick. It’s just chilling there. But moving on. He’s still got sleepy morning haze thoughts, clearly.

He sighs. He sighs and it’s loud and dumb and he hears a puff of Dirk’s breath in response, completely coincidental and purely out of whatever the Hell he’s dreaming about, but it’s mocking. Yes, the breath was mocking. He swears by it. He needs to pee and he sighed and therefore, because Dirk can hear that shit in his sleep and is a sassy fuck, even then, he puffs breath, too.

 Dave’s never going to get to move, is he?

Dave doesn’t move for a while. It’s honestly the dumbest thing he’s ever done. All he has to do, literally, is just... scoot a bit. Tug Dirk’s arms up. Maybe pat his cheek or wiggle around a bit until his hunk of a boyfriend wakes up and releases him. Yet, he doesn’t. He lies there and sighs and groans under his breath. He curses Dirk for being fucking six foot tall and heavy and handsome and god damn immobile, apparently. He curses a lot of stuff for no particular reason until he’s stuck in the shitty limbo between falling asleep and being unable to. Y’know, _that_ limbo. The worst limbo ever created and probably the sixth circle of Hell or something. He’s about to give up.

Dave can see from the wall clock hanging above their doorway, if he turns his head so that it’s over his shoulder and his hair is almost suffocating Dirk he can see it, that it’s been twenty minutes. He’s been awake for twenty minutes stuck in pee Hell. So, why is he here? What the fuck is he doing, not moving? Very simple. It’s all for the sake of sleepy mornings. Of not moving and letting Dirk sleep because he was so damn nice earlier, all soft hands and wonderfulness. And maybe it’s for the sake of how fucking sweet his boyfriend is, too- how Dave was a sappy shit and remembered all the times Dirk was precious and made him feel precious too. It softens him inside and he sighs a bit again, gentler now. Dirk will wake up eventually.

He was already awake. It was a lie.

The realization comes when Dave realizes that no, he isn’t crazy. And no, he’s not having shitty, weirdo thoughts. Well he is, but you get it. Earlier, when he thought about how everytime he sighs he hears Dirk give a puff of breath? Well he wasn’t wrong. _He’s serious_. Like, really. Everytime he sighs or shifts or mumbles or curses, he gets a reaction. Say, he sighs. Dirk puffs breath. He stretches. Dirk tugs him a little closer and noses into his neck more. He glances at the clock and murmurs an updated time. Dirk smiles against his shoulders, lips all upturned softly, warm breath puffing out.  
He could kill him.

He’s really tempted to honestly. This little shit has left him awake, knowing his dire need to pee, and doesn’t move? Lets him struggle and suffer in silence, and also his own cursing and mutterings, all the while knowing? He blinks. He puffs a breath. Narrows his eyes and clicks his tongue and goes to turn in his lover’s arms, red eyes glaring and cheeks puffed out. His lips are pouty and if he was a child, he’d certainly be one with an attitude problem. Dirk merely blinks his orange eyes up at his lover and smiles, lazily, saying,

“Good mornin’?”

Dave doesn’t kill him.

He’s really fucking tempted to, though. Was going to, even. Kill him with glares and silence and furious, still-hasn’t-peed-yet anger, but he can’t. Those orange eyes are soft and sweet. They look like the perfect shade of everything and autumn and even spring, all scooped up and mixed into one. Maybe if Dave was a bit hazier and more romantic he’d compare them to a sunset or a fine whiskey having a light shined on it, but Dirk’s eyes aren’t that amber. They’re bright and soft, instead. Like a perfect fuzzy blanket or a candle that smells like oranges that you adore. An orchard, lit up in spring with ripe fruit and the sun beating down, the scent of it everywhere.

So no, Dave doesn’t kill him. The anger all dies out when he sees those sweet eyes and that smile that could melt god damn Antarctica. It’s not pearly white or anything special. It’s not perfectly straight like some cliché ass thing. No. It’s just a tiny bit toothy and a tiny bit crooked, smile lopsided and his scruff shining red in the sunlight. It’s the perfect mixture of everything that’s ever existed and Dave finds himself sighing before he knows it, fingers coming up to run along that chiseled jaw and sweep through that messy, long hair.

No, he doesn’t ever get to pee either. He’s got more important things to do, better places to be. He’s got a perfect human in front of him; Apollo himself, or perhaps a demigod. A soft and sweet somethin’ that shines in the sunlight and melts him like snowflakes on hot concrete. He’s got a boyfriend who’s voice is as rough as a damned washboard, but he counters it with words as sweet as icing on a homemade cake. He’s got shining eyes and tanned skin like freshly chopped wood. He’s got muscles and scars and a heart you wouldn’t believe. And the best part?

It’s all Dave’s.

It’s a sleepy morning in Hollywood.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I hope you enjoyed this and if you did, please leave a kudos or comment! Thank you and have a wonderful day.


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